


Such a Sweet Girl

by Sarah1281



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dark Character, F/M, Gen, Lies, Parent Valjean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:58:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah1281/pseuds/Sarah1281
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosette has a dark secret and Éponine is determined to make Valjean see it. Cosette is just as determined to stop such a thing from happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such a Sweet Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a kink!meme prompt for dark Cosette. I know that she’s not normally like this.

Cosette had a nice, sympathetic back-story and she fully intended to milk it for all it was worth if it ever came to that. 

Her mother had been a fool. She had abandoned her young daughter when her job required near-constant travel. She always believed it when she was told that Cosette was too tired to talk on the phone or was not in. The letters Cosette was forced to write (not a single word permitted to deviate from the script they had prepared) seemed to serve as enough contact. The Thénardiers were truly despicable people, well-versed in taking a far-off single mother for all she was worth. 

Cosette had been abused as a child. Nothing sexual but who knew what would have happened if she had had to stay there? 

She read Harry Potter in fifth grade and had immediately identified with the titular character. She hadn’t been rescued by a giant when she was eleven, though; she had been saved by a curiously tender-hearted ex-con. 

She owed him. 

She owed him a debt that could never be repaid. She had been mistreated by the Thénardiers even when they were taking her mother for thousands of dollars a month and if nothing had been done when her mother died…Well things would have deteriorated fast even before little Gavroche had been abandoned and the adult Thénardiers had been imprisoned for attempting to sell their two youngest children. How had they possibly thought that they could get away with something like that? 

Éponine and Azelma were in the system now, fortunate only in not being separated, and they would always be in the system. Their foster parents saw them as nothing but meal tickets and, if they were not actually mistreated, their lives were grim and their futures bleak. 

With their hand-me-down clothes and inability to invite people over, they were never going to be popular. With their parents’ horrendous crimes (who tried to sell their children anyway?) and a little subtle social pressure, they were pariahs. 

It was a far cry from the life that Cosette now lived. Ever since she came to live with her father, she had been given everything she had ever wanted and more. He seemed to feel an entirely misplaced sense of guilt over her mother’s death and was forever trying to make up for that. It was a nice thought, perhaps, but entirely unnecessary. She was better off without such a fool in her life. Just look what had happened with the Thénardiers. 

Perhaps it was also his own impoverished upbringing and his time in prison that led to his overcompensation. Cosette couldn’t complain about the privilege. 

Jean Valjean, her father, had legally changed his name to Michaël Madeleine shortly after being released from prison to try and escape the worst of the stigma. She was not supposed to know any of this, of course, but she was not an idiot and so over the years had pieced it together. Did it bother her that she had an ex-con as a father? Of course not. Would it bother her if this negatively impacted her life at all? Naturally. But it hadn’t. 

She looked at her life and looked at Éponine’s and it made it impossible to forget just how much she owed this man, whatever his name. He seemed to think that he was protecting her by hiding his past or maybe he was afraid that she would see him differently. It did not matter to her so she let him have this. 

Cosette knew that she was not like other people. 

Most people in her world were not abused as children and those who were had no miraculous rescue. She had been saved early but not soon enough to avoid learning that there were people in this world who would do anything to achieve their aims and the average people of the world were powerless against them. The Thénardiers were rather stupid people and that was why they were rotting in prison but look at how far they had come. 

She wondered sometimes if that was why she was the way she was. As loathe as she was to accredit those people with anything, it was quite the coincidence. Éponine and Azelma didn’t seem to have inherited any of this but then they had never been on the receiving end, had they?

Cosette found that when she lied people believed her, sometimes despite there being compelling reasons not to. All she had to do, like that Seinfeld episode had advised years before, was to make sure that she believed it. Believing something while simultaneously being aware that it was not true…Well sometimes she impressed even herself. 

She felt no guilt over lying. She felt no guilt over anything, actually, and that was good. That made her stronger and was an innate advantage most people lacked. Guilt was worthless on an individual basis and only useful as a societal thing to prevent people from going around killing each other indiscriminately. Cosette was no fool and had never taken any pleasure in mindless violence or pointless cruelty (unlike certain convicts she could mention) that could reveal everything so her lack of guilt didn’t change anything there. 

It just allowed her to do what she felt the need to do with no hesitation or complications. Everyone loved her unless they were aware that they had been a victim of her rage. The Thénardiers had been immune to her charm but then, at that age and as abused as she was, she hadn’t had much charm to speak of, had she? And, as reluctant as she was to admit it, they were like her. She had never been impressed by their act either. Her father also hadn’t fallen for it and that was where things became complicated. 

She tended to divide the world into fools and non-fools and most people were, sadly but usefully, fools. He mother was a fool. The Thénardiers were fools of another sort. 

Was her father a fool? She had never been able to decide. He insisted on inexplicably giving far too much charity to everyone but he made more than enough money to do that and still live extremely well so it wasn’t a problem, just annoying. He had never been fooled by the Thénardiers or any other people who tried to take advantage of him but he had never seemed to see through Cosette. But then, he loved her and she owed him too much to ever do anything to knowingly hurt him so perhaps his instincts weren’t wrong there. Not hurting him meant that he could never know the truth about her but the less people knew the safer she was anyway. 

Cosette didn’t know if she was capable of love at all (her affection always seemed like it wasn’t nearly as strong as other people’s seemed to be) but if she had ever loved anyone then she loved her father. 

She was sitting on her bed doing her homework when the doorbell rang. She got up and headed downstairs just far enough to see who it was and if they were there to see her. 

Éponine Thénardier. Well, wasn’t this a surprise. 

“Are you here to see Cosette?” her father asked. 

Éponine shook her head, a stubbornly defiant if still undeniably worried expression on her face. 

“I see,” her father said, sounding puzzled. “Have I met you before? Your face is familiar to me.” 

Éponine looked away. “Perhaps you’ve seen me around town,” she lied. She knew. 

“Is there anything I can do for you then?” her father asked politely. 

“Can I come in?” Éponine asked awkwardly, looking towards the stairs as she bit her lip and Cosette quickly ducked out of sight. 

This looked…interesting. Unexpected but now that it was here it was obvious. Éponine was going to talk to her father about her. Brazen. 

What to do, what to do…She could put a stop to all of this right now simply by going downstairs. Éponine wouldn’t dare say anything while she was right there. She could probably even stop her father from ever entertaining any thoughts of anything Éponine might tell him by spinning a sob story about how Éponine hated her for falling in love with the boy that Éponine had a crush on. 

The truth was that Éponine had been in love with Marius for years and when Cosette had encountered him at the beginning of high school, she had understood why. Marius was very attractive and had a sort of sweetness about him that Éponine couldn’t have had much experience with. He was popular and athletic but very naïve and easily controlled. In short, he was good boyfriend material even without the benefit of crushing the other girl. She wouldn’t pretend that she hadn’t let that influence her decision but if Marius had been a total loser then she would have just turned him against Éponine even as a friend instead of sullying herself with him. 

Maybe her father wouldn’t believe Éponine (and he wouldn’t because the Cosette that Éponine could describe was nothing like her father’s doting daughter) and maybe no one else that Éponine could turn to would either (why would they? Cosette was pretty and popular and oh so sweet. She was so kind, always worrying about others and going to church and spending so much time volunteering with her father) but it would be foolish to pass up this opportunity to find out just what Éponine had to say. 

Her father nodded and ushered her into the kitchen. Cosette crept further down the stairs and sat down near the bottom. She would have liked to be able to see what was going on but there was no way to do that without risking being seen. 

“Would you like something to drink?” her father asked. “Are you hungry?” 

“I’m fine,” Éponine said, sounding incredibly uncomfortable. 

“Are you sure?” her father pressed, always happiest when taking care of other people. 

“Maybe just some water,” Éponine amended. 

Cosette heard the sounds of her father getting a glass out and filling it up with water from the fridge. 

After a moment, he said, “Speak, child.” 

“I…I’m here to talk to you about Cosette.” 

“Cosette?” She could hear the frown in his voice. “You said that you did not wish to see her.” 

“I don’t,” Éponine said just a little too quickly. “That is to say, I know her and I am here to speak with you about her.” 

“I am always willing to speak of Cosette,” her father said carefully but he still sounded bemused. Cosette knew for a fact that she was one of her father’s favorite topics of conversation. 

“You seem like a perfectly nice guy,” Éponine said, clearly struggling with this. “So does Cosette, though, so who knows? But perhaps given my prior experience I can see these things clearly.” 

Éponine had the right of it. Her father was the most thoroughly decent man she knew and it constantly amazed her that this did not seem to cost him more. That was another reason not to tell him about her: he would just blame himself for failing as a parent or being a bad influence or maybe even her mother’s death (though if she hadn’t died then chances were that unless he saved her still she’d have been with the Thénardiers until they were arrested). He was actually the last person in the world that she thought had anything to do with it. And she wouldn’t say that ‘blame’ was the right word, either, since she was satisfied with who she was but he would never be able to understand that. 

“I do not follow you,” her father admitted. 

There was a pause and Cosette imagined that Éponine was taking in a deep, steadying breath. “There is something very…wrong with Cosette, Mr. Madeleine.” 

“There is nothing wrong with my daughter,” her father returned immediately, as fiercely protective as she had been expecting. 

“I’m sorry if you don’t want to hear it but there is,” Éponine insisted, holding her ground. “And you can throw me out and live in denial all you want but that’s not going to change anything.” 

Her father was right, though. Cosette was not normal but there was nothing wrong with her. She could understand why Éponine thought there was, however. 

“I will hear you out,” her father said finally, “but I know that there is no truth in it.” 

“Thank you.” 

Cosette might have wondered why he was even listening to her if he was so sure that it wasn’t true but she knew that her father would drive himself crazy wondering about some vague ‘problem’ Éponine thought she had. It was better for him to just know what the accusation was so that he could dismiss it and then firmly put it out of his mind. 

“Everyone loves Cosette,” Éponine began slowly. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that. They think she is everything fluffy and sweet.” 

“You believe that this is indicative of a problem with Cosette?” her father asked skeptically. 

“No. If that were the case then of course it wouldn’t be. But she’s not like that. She’s not like that at all. Oh, she can put on a good act – the best I’ve ever seen – but it’s not true.” 

Cosette smiled slightly at the compliment though the other girl would not have meant it to be one. 

“Cosette has this…this darkness inside of her that she takes care not to let other people see. She lets me see it, however, and quite frankly it terrifies me. She makes my life a living hell and I don’t even know why.” Her voice broke a little here. 

Why? The why should be obvious, if not for the average person then for Éponine at least. Éponine was a figure from her past who had the nerve to not stay there. She had once had everything while Cosette had had nothing and the hatred born there was still beating strong in what some might call her heart. Éponine had seen her back when she was pathetic and that was something that could never be forgiven. Every time that Cosette looked at her she could imagine that she saw the knowledge of her former wretchedness shining in the other girl’s eyes. 

Strangely, she had never felt this way with her father. Then again, he hadn’t seemed to have even noticed how pathetic she had been and always used to tell her things like it wasn’t her fault and that she was strong for surviving. She liked to hear those things a lot better than whatever Éponine could possibly have to say on the subject. 

She wanted to punish Éponine for daring to still be a part of her world, for bearing witness to her hidden shame, for existing, pretty much. Was that fair? No. What did that have to do with anything? 

She was tempted to do the same to Azelma for the same reason but the urge had never been as strong with her as Azelma was younger and so she didn’t see her as much. Azelma, too, had always been quiet and less prominent in her memories. It was not mercy that stayed her hand, however, but her desire for Éponine to feel isolated and wonder if she was crazy for seeing such a different Cosette than everyone else did instead of having her sister to commiserate with. Azelma though that Cosette was wonderful and, even if Cosette felt ill at that, she still tried to encourage it. She knew how much it hurt Éponine to see proof of her sister’s regard for her tormentor. 

“Cosette…tortures you?” It was clear just how incomprehensible her father found that. 

“Not physically, of course, and maybe that sounds a little melodramatic but…yes,” Éponine replied. “Oh, she’s’ perfectly nice when everyone else is around but the moment we’re alone she says the cruelest things. She tells me that I will never be loved because I’m far too ugly and worthless. She tells me that Marius is barely aware that I exist. She tells me that she is only with him to watch me suffer and about the sweet things he says and does for her. She tells me that I will never escape my parents’ legacy. She tells me that it’s in my blood. She tells me that she will never just leave me alone. She tells me that no one would ever believe me.” 

And still she attempted to come forward. And still she tried to convince the one person in this world that loved Cosette more than anyone else. How very odd. Stupid, as well. 

“I do not know why you say these things,” her father said after a long silence. “But I know my daughter and that is not her. Cosette is a good girl. I do not know if you are somehow confused or have other problems that you are attempting to deal with by attacking Cosette but I say to you that this is not true. I do hope that, whatever brings you here, you stop spreading lies about my dear daughter.” 

Cosette had heard enough. She allowed herself a brief smirk of satisfaction before schooling her expression into a mask of earnest innocence and she crept back to the top of the stairs before loudly bounding down and bouncing into the kitchen. 

Éponine turned to face her and stared up in frozen horror. She was clenching her glass so hard that her knuckles were white and the glass looked like it might shatter. It felt wrong to see Éponine there in her house but they were not alone so she ruthlessly pushed her rising anger down. 

Her father was looking quite distressed but managed a mostly-genuine smile when she walked into the room. 

“Hello, Papa,” Cosette greeted him, kissing him on the cheek. She glanced over at Éponine and made sure to look surprised. “Éponine! What are you doing here?” 

Éponine said nothing. 

“You remember Éponine, Papa,” Cosette said innocently, just to twist the knife and further decimate this girl’s already nonexistent credibility. “She’s the Thénardiers’ oldest daughter.” 

Her father started. “Éponine…Thénardier?” 

Cosette pretended to suddenly realize something. “Oh, but that was never her fault. She’s really nice now. She even hangs out with Marius sometimes.” 

Éponine wilted a little at Cosette’s conspicuous failure to name her as a friend of Marius’ but if her father would notice something like that then she would not have said it. 

“I’m glad to hear that you’ve managed to put that behind you, Cosette,” her father said, looking at Éponine with pity for her supposed failure to move past their childhood. 

Cosette beamed at him. “How could I not when you are so good, Papa?” 

There was a significantly warmer look on his face now, even if he could not completely banish the ghosts of Éponine’s words as long as she was still sitting there. 

Cosette turned back to Éponine. “What did you say that you came here for?” 

Éponine abruptly stood, ungraceful and embarrassed. “I was just leaving.” 

Cosette frowned. “Already? I don’t understand.” 

“This was a mistake.” She hurried towards the door and Cosette followed her. 

Her father was in the next room and she could not guarantee that he would not hear any exchange that they had. 

“Stay away from my father,” Cosette said in a low but deadly serious tone. 

Éponine laughed bitterly. “Why? Worried that one day he might see through you? Or are you trying to say that there is actually someone in this world that means a damn thing to you?” 

That was too loud. She would have to respond. 

“Oh, Éponine, I wish that you would tell me what is wrong and not lash out like this!” Cosette exclaimed. “I know that you must be hurting but this is hurting me, too. I’m here for you.” 

Casing one last disgusted look at Cosette (one that she returned with a silent promise of retribution), Éponine left. 

Cosette returned to her father in the kitchen looking down and biting her lip. 

Her father was on his feet in an instant and came over to her. “Are you alright, Cosette?” 

She smiled bravely and her voice only wobbled a little when she said. “I think so. I just don’t understand why she said that to me. I hope she didn’t say anything like that to you!” She looked at him carefully and sighed. “Oh, I see.” 

“I did not believe a word of it,” her father promised her. 

Cosette gave him a brief hug. “Thank you for always believing in me, Papa.” 

“I’m your father, Cosette,” he said reasonably. “That’s my job.” 

“And you’re so good at it,” she replied sweetly. 

Her father smiled at that. “Your birthday is coming up, Cosette. Have you given any thought to that?” 

Oh, that was a safe bet. 

“I want to bake cupcakes and give them to all of my friends,” Cosette informed him. 

She would wait until when Éponine was around and then be oh so embarrassed and dismayed that she did not have enough or had forgotten (depending on which, in that situation, would be more likely to be believed). Whoever was there would inevitably offer to share if not outright give up their own cupcake entirely but Éponine would recognize the snub and refuse. 

“Most people are given cakes or cupcakes by someone else, even if they do share with their friends,” her father noted, sounding pleased at her ‘generosity.’ 

Cosette smiled. “Oh, I know, but it always makes me so happy to give to others and it means more to make it myself than to just buy it.” 

“The more work you put into something the more special it is,” her father agreed. “You still haven’t told me what you want for your birthday.” 

Cosette shrugged a little sheepishly. “I know and I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make things difficult for you.” 

“This is not about me, Cosette,” her father was quick to reassure her. “If I have any difficulty in this it’s only because I love you and I want to make your birthday special. And this is your eighteenth birthday, too.” 

Cosette nodded solemnly. “I am so looking forward to vote though it is a little sad that I’m leaving my childhood behind.” 

Her father’s eyes were suddenly suspiciously wet so she gave him another hug. “Do not grow up too fast,” he whispered into her hair. 

“Never,” she whispered back before pulling away. “I really wish that I could be more help but I have everything I could ever need or even want! You are so good to me, Papa, and I’m sure that I will like whatever you decide on.” 

Especially so since she had long-since mastered the art of subtly telling her father what she wanted without him realizing that she was intentionally dropping hints. It all worked out the same but it was not a waste of time as it made her look better. 

Sometimes she worried that she was pretending to be too perfect and then she faked a stress-induced break-down and that seemed to suffice. 

“I shall do my best,” her father promised. “Your birthday falls on a Friday this year, I believe. I trust that you will want to go out with your friends?” 

Cosette shook her head. “I would rather stay home with you.” 

He took her hands in his. “Oh, Cosette, I appreciate the thought and you are so sweet to be thinking of me but you are young and beautiful and I do not want to make you feel like you must stay home and keep this stuffy old man company.” 

“You are not a stuffy old man!” Cosette cried out loyally. 

“MY point still stands,” her father said fondly. 

“I can go out with my friends any day. I’ll probably go out with them that Saturday,” Cosette said reasonably. “And I’ll see them at school that day. But it’s my birthday and I want to spend it with my favorite person in the world. Birthdays are our thing.” 

“What about Marius?” he asked. “I understand that birthdays are something that couples usually share.” 

What about Marius? 

“He understands your place in my life,” she said simply. “Please, Papa.” 

“If that is your wish.” Despite his neutral words, it was clear that her words meant the world to him and he so wanted to spend her birthday with her. 

“It is,” Cosette assured him. “We can go out for pizza like we used to when I was little.” 

His eyes lit up at that. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Cosette. I look forward to it.” 

Her outward smile nicely matched her smirk within. 

Really, Éponine should have known better.


End file.
